Lyrics:
Aye, what we gonna do today, Mr. Collipark?
Same thing we do everyday, Soulja Boy
Tryna crank the world?
It ain't no game, you know what I'm sayin'?
all)
I do my dirt all by my lonely
Don't need no phony homie to call me
(That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all)
That go for each and everyone of you
Ay
I like 'em thick, show that ass on the gram get a heart on yo flick
And when she walk by me, a nigga get brick
'Cuz I'm hook on the way she be
So don't tell me whatchu wish for
You wanna be kept by a rich ho
Bitch-ass nigga, I'm tryna hit me a lick
She better pay me right now
She wanna get
shooting for Georgia Tech, like my name was Eddie Elisma
Doing this thing these boys can't mess with me, these boys can't test me
What's left to see, is
no guards or protection team
I can tell that you are a rat, you'd spill the beans by any means
Rather be alone, do my thing, smoke weed and drink lean
hat
Gotta slimey potna he gone slime ya out and do it bad
Thinking it's no problem whole time I wanna do ya bad
Take a nigga hat tell em I said fuck em
hands up in the air!
It's a middle finger affair, yeah
(That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all)
I do my dirt all by my lonely
Don't need no phony homie to call
Smook (x3) Soulja Boy Tell 'Em, SODMGdotcom
White lam' that's, swag
Pull up to the club, I pop tags
Lil' Dre or Lil Smook?
360 bands, panoramic roof
the glass paint and then you passed it
Had to go tell all the boys how I felt they responded by telling me Lel
Is she really the one that you wanted get with
your dad (ask him man)
And if you don't believe him, ask your mom (that's right)
She'll tell you how she does 'em all the time (she will)
So kids,
your dad (ask him man)
And if you don't believe him, ask your mom (that's right)
She'll tell you how she does 'em all the time (she will)
So kids,
only got 2 out!
School ya on your history, I tell ya what you 'bout
Fight for all the right things and let the Huey New out
Pharrell what these n-ggas
boys
I'm right off that Gresham boy
I got somthin' to sell them boys
Ridin' around wit choppa toys
I'm so fuckin' paranoid
All I gotta do is tell
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
(Hit-Boy)
Ayy, this that Clipse sample, ayy (G.Ry got me)
Fuck that talkin', let the clip slam 'em
Yellow bands
wine
20 inches is the only thing I sit my shit on
Don't bring ya bitch around me
Cause my dick she'll wanna sit on
And I ain't gonna tell her nothing
Pick door number three if your price is right
I'll pull a DJ Quik "tonite is the night"
(Murphy Lee)
Hold on, so I can tell 'em who I is, a young
waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it
Hey, hey, hey, big shit poppin' and little things stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little things
nobody handle you the way I do
Give your boy a K or two, kill you in a day or two
And no disrespect, boy, you violate me, we gon' handle that
Blow your ass
guide
Don't stand to close like a 5G Tower
When I drop these niggas be choppa hot
Better stand your ass by a fire hydrant
I was riding with some fuck boys
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
Them by the real name
Soop sucker, some male MCs
In full effect, I'm pulling all of these
But when I'm on the mic
You know I do things right
I'm in house
don't make 'em like this anymore
I ask, ‘cause I'm not sure
Do anybody make real shit anymore?
Bow in the presence of greatness
‘Cause right now, thou
And the women say damn, them niggas don't say a damn thing
Boy I bet that shotty make you bounce like a bed-spring
Walking a thin line, gotta defend mine
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